Age

Just a line to say I'm living
That I'm not among the dead,
Though I'm getting more forgetful,
And more "mixed up" in my head
For, sometimes I can't remember,
When I stand at the foot of the stairs,
If I must go up for something,
Or, I've come down from there.
And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt,
Have I just put food away, or
Have I come to take it out.
And its times when it's dark out,
With a hair net on my head,
I don't know if I'm retiring,
Or just getting out of bed.
So, if it's my turn to write you,
There's no need of getting sore,
I may think I have written,
And don't want to be a bore
So, remember, I do love you
And I wish that you were here,
But now its nearly mail time,
And I must say "Good-bye", dear.
There I stood beside the mail box,
With face so very red,
Instead of mailing your letter,
I had opened it instead.